Not Knowing is the Worst
by liebedance
Summary: When Michael's father dies, the only one who can save him is Terry. Part of thanfiction's DAYDverse


Author's Note: This is part of the DAYDverse. DAYD stands for _Dumbledore's Army and the Year of Darkness_ by thanfiction (his ff dot net penname). It is a truly amazing work that follows Neville through his seventh year at Hogwarts. While you can read this not having read _Year of Darkness_, I would highly suggest reading it as well as all the other works by thanfiction.

Disclaimer: JKR gave them being and names. Andy (thanfiction) gave them personalities and histories. As for me? I'm just giving them this scene.

Terry paced across the Ravenclaw 6th year dormitory. Sixty hours. It'd been sixty hours since Professor Flitwick had come to the Ravenclaw common room, grimly stating that he needed to see Michael. And it'd been nearly as long – fifty-nine hours and forty-eight minutes – since Terry had heard from Michael - in his head or otherwise. He wasn't sure what disturbed him more, the fact that Michael had been abruptly pulled from school or the fact that he, Terry Boot, Michael's more-than-brother, had no idea where he was or what he was thinking.

"Terry, mate." Anthony's voice sounded from the doorway. "I highly doubt that pacing a hole through the dormitory floor is going to help."

"Don't be obtuse," Terry mumbled, not quitting his pacing, "It'd take centuries to even make a sizable dent."

"I'm sure Mike is okay," Anthony said quietly, "Flitwick took him, not a Death Eater. Think about it rationally."

"Rationally," Terry echoed, slowing his pace slightly.

"Like a Ravenclaw," Anthony said.

"_Tous les goûts sont dans la nature,"_ Terry responded absently.

"Terry," Anthony argued, "You belong in Ravenclaw. Any fool can see that. And, really, try to get a grip on yourself before you do something worthy of Gryffindor. You know Mike is okay."

"But I _don't _know," Terry argued. Then, more to himself than to his friend, "And I don't know _why_ I don't know. I don't know if he's too far away or if he's blocking me. I am being excessively redundant, but the only thing I can think is that I don't know. It's driving me insane."

"The thirst for knowledge is both a blessing and a curse," Anthony agreed. Terry sank onto his bed, closed his eyes and put his head in his hands, searching for the cause.

***

Michael sat on his bed, hundreds of miles away. The past two, almost three, days had been a nightmare. His normally cheery house had transformed into his own personal circle of hell. Death, accusations and investigation had plagued the past sixty hours. Officials had searched the house looking for Dark artifacts or illegal potions Michael knew did not exist. They had questioned each member of Michael's small family for evidence of betrayal.

His once calm, sheltered, and loving life had been turned upside down because his father, a man who had done nothing wrong, had died for reasons unbeknownst to any of them. No amount of logic, no rationale could explain why his father had been taken from him. All the information Michael had ever acquired failed to answer the simple question of _why._

And then, Michael couldn't take it anymore. The young man, who until recently had still been a child, thought not of logic or rationale; he thought without regards to consequences or prices. All he knew was that the pain was too much to bear. All he could think about was that he had to make the overwhelming pain stop.

It'd be easy and simple, so unlike these past few days. And he'd never have to feel this way again. He'd never again have his heart ripped out of his chest or his lungs turned inside out, preventing him from breathing. He'd never again sob so hard that his stomach expelled all the food he hadn't even wanted to eat. He didn't know or care what would come next, but he knew it'd be better than this.

He summoned parchment and a quill and hastily began to write a note each to the three most important people in his life. He apologized to his mother for leaving and to his sister for stealing the attention away from her. But when he got to the letter intended for Terry, he stopped.

Could he leave his other half? But the thought of going on any further caused too much agony. Terry would understand. He would know how he couldn't breathe, how each thought was a stab in his chest, how the anguish completely overwhelmed him.

No longer caring that he wasn't supposed to let anyone know what was going on, he stopped blocking his mind and poured out his soul to the boy who was his true brother.

***

Terry woke up suddenly as his mind filled with an agony that was quite separate from his own. Although the raw pain went beyond words, Terry could make out some distinct thoughts…

_Inconsequential… I don't want to leave you… no other way… keep going on… don't blame yourself… beautiful, body, mind and soul… I'm sorry_

"Stephen! Anthony! I have to get out of the grounds," Terry said, sitting up and pushing Mike's thoughts from his head with difficulty.

"What? Why?" Anthony asked, sitting up groggily.

"I have to get to Mike."

"How?"

"I don't know! I'll Apparate!"

"You don't have a license," Stephen pointed out, yawning.

"I don't bloody care if I haven't got a license!"

"You're not even of age! Think about it rationally for a moment. It's illeg-"

"I don't care!" Terry yelled, losing all control, "This is _Mike_. I need to get to him. I need to get somewhere where I can Apparate to Mike. _Merde!_"

"How good are your Disillusionment charms?" Anthony asked. Terry didn't answer; he looked around the room trying to come up with a plan, "Because, you know the statue of the humpbacked witch on the third floor? If you tap the witch's hump and say '_dissendium'_, a passage will open into Honeyduke's. You can Apparate from there."

Barely nodding, not bothering to ask Anthony how he knew this, Terry hurried out of the dormitory towards the statue that would allow him to save Michael.

***

Michael sat on his bed, three letters lay beside him in a neat pile. He looked around his room for what would be the last time. His eyes fell on a picture of him and Terry, taken after they'd first met, and he remembered their first conversation: "'_Quisque comodeus est.' _'_Non vos_, _b__raccae tuae aperiuntur.'_" Terry would be the last thing he saw. Michael closed his eyes, holding the image of his best friend in his mind as he raised his want to his temple.

***

Terry could tell the minute he was out of the bounds of Hogwarts' anti-Apparition charm. He stopped and focused completely. Determined to get to Michael in time, he deliberately forced his mind to think only of the destination of Michael's house. Then he turned on the spot and disappeared.

***

A loud crack filled Michael's room. The attractive young man slowly raised his eyes to see his best friend standing by his closet, breathing heavily, his long hair clinging to his face.

"Terry," he said hoarsely, staring at his friend in absolute disbelief, "What –why – how?"

"I Apparated," Terry stated simply. He looked over his friend. Michael's handsome face was pale, his eyes bloodshot, red rimmed and haunted. Terry's deep blue eyes travelled to his friend's wand where it rested gently at his temple, held in place with a shaking hand. His glance flickered to the stack of letters before returning to Michael's eyes.

_Don't you dare tell me you are planning on doing what it looks like you're planning on doing,"_ Terry thought, unable to bring himself to form the words. The silence was answer enough. Instantly, Terry was at Michael's side, taking the want out of his hand and pulling him into a tight embrace. Michael let go of the wand without a struggle and leaned into his friend.

_Why?_

Silence.

_Why would you even consider doing something like that?_

_It hurts too much, Terry. I can't deal with this._

"I want to see my dad again," Michael spoke aloud. The meaning of the spoken words hit Terry like a train.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I couldn't. There's an investigation. The Aurors think Dark Arts, illegal potions or… us."

"I'm so sorry, Mike. But that's still no reason to blast your head open!"

"I haven't exactly been thinking rationally. But, Terry, it hurts so much. Not only the loss, though that's bad enough. But the not knowing _why_; the wondering if the Aurors are right, that I've been so wrong about my family."

"Mike, you haven't been wrong. Your father is – was – a good wizard and a good man. The way he's brought me into your family from the moment you introduced us and been more of a father to me than my own ever has, there's no way he couldn't be. Don't doubt that. And don't lose your mind or destroy yourself because some wizards in green robes can't see what years of evidence has proven."

"Terry…"

"No, Mike, listen to me. Answer this question: do you want me to die?"

"No, Terry, of course not."

"Then don't let yourself go. Don't let yourself die. Because, without you, I'd die…" Terry's voice drifted off, but he continued silently. _Sans vous, je ne suis rien._

_Terry…_

_You are more than I am or could ever be. If logic fails you, remember that. Reste pour moi, vit pour moi._

Mike nodded and the sobs came once again. But it was different, almost bearable, knowing his other half was there and wouldn't leave. The two boys sat there, mourning the loss of their father. No more words or thoughts passed between them. Neither knew what to say, but in this moment, not knowing was okay. They had each other. And for the moment that was all they needed.


End file.
